


Only Miss the Sun When it Starts to Snow

by IsThereARealLife



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (until the end of season 2), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Spoilers, Agents of Shield Season 2, Angst, Baking, Betrayal, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Compliant, Cupcakes, Episode: s02e16 Afterlife, F/F, Love Confessions, M/M, Mack's Impressive Physique, Miscommunication, Pining, Post-Betrayal, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsThereARealLife/pseuds/IsThereARealLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of 'Real-SHIELD' invading Coulson's base, Fitz is left reeling from new betrayal. GAY. Just kidding, there is plot. But also. GAY.</p><p>(Follows season 2 and beyond.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Miss the Sun When it Starts to Snow

**Author's Note:**

> summary help from [ishita](http://www.akadefenders.tumblr.com), who loves the gay
> 
> started as a 'coda' to Afterlife and then grew and grew
> 
> ENJOY

Weaver asked if Jemma would have a look at Mack. She looked at you first, as if you had some say in what happened to Mack, as if you were allowed to make decisions for him. You don’t. It isn’t your call. Not at all. You are their prisoners and you both need to do what they say. 

You stay sitting against the bench. They didn’t say you could move so you believe it best to just stay put. But from where you are, Mack is directly in your eye line. Jemma does her thing and you studiously avoid looking anywhere near that direction. Except when you can’t. 

Every time you glance that way, Mack is looking at you. He has to turn his head to see you so you know he means to be doing it. His expression is… apologetic? Guilty, maybe… You want to get away. You don’t care where, they could just lock you in a closet or something. You just need to be away from those big sad eyes. Eyes that were always so kind to you, so understanding.

You were so close. You were friends. You… you played video games and worked together and he was just… he was there for you when no one else was. When no one else knew what to do with you, he treated you like a normal person. He gave you a nickname and you were… you were just…  
There is movement in front of you. Simmons has finished and Mack is standing up, flexing his shoulders. Reasonable thought flees momentarily because damn… (Stop it Fitz. Not the time). And crap, now he’s looking at you again. He’s walking this way. No. No, you need to go. 

You scramble to your feet and sidle away awkwardly, shaking your head. No. Not now. You don’t want to hear it. You spare him a glance as you make your escape and he falters. The earnest expression turns to regret and resignation. The guards at the door watch you go but don’t try to stop you. There are so many of them around, you suppose it doesn’t really matter if you wander off. There’s always someone there.

You make it back to your room without much interference, though after a few hallways someone started following you. They stop several paces away from your door but it is obvious why they’re there.

You sigh and throw yourself onto the bed as the door slams. You wriggle under the heavy blanket and curl up facing the wall. It’s always cold here, being underground in Canada in the middle of winter, but somehow it feels even colder now. The warmth of friendship and something else now so harshly torn away. A single tear leaks from your eye. You go to brush it away, but think, sod it. You’re Scottish, not English. You can show emotion if you want. You can cry if you damn well want to. Who wouldn’t, when their… their… _something_ turns out to work for the other guys.

You pull your massive stuffed monkey – the only compromise Coulson would allow – close and take as much comfort as you can from its big arms, though they fall limply around your shaking shoulders.

* * * * *

Every time Fitz looks at you it hurts. Like a physical pain, worse than whatever it is that Simmons is doing to you. You want to take it away. You want to erase the pain so obvious on his face. The heartbreak and betrayal in his eyes.

When she finally stops poking you with her tech stuff, you get up and try to go to him, but he sees too soon. Before you can even get past the door, he’s gone. He was shaking his head, practically running. He doesn’t want to talk. Of course he wouldn’t, after what just happened. But you just want to explain yourself. You just… So you let him go. He was always there. He was your friend. And now he hates you. With a good reason, you suppose. But… And you’ve probably lost him for good now. You never wanted to hurt him. You could _never_ …

You get called into a meeting with the heads of SHIELD before you get lost in your head and start thinking of doing something stupid like chase after him. It lasts for hours, with all the debriefing you and Bobbi both need to go through, and by the end you have a pounding headache. Half the time you could barely focus on what was being said. You tried not to think about Fitz, but couldn’t help it. There was just a constant cycle of thoughts chasing circles around in your head. You hurt him, he hates you, you didn’t explain yourself properly, you need to talk to him, but you hurt him, he won’t want to listen, he hates you…

“Agent McKenzie, are you quite alright?” some to his left asks. You start, lurching abruptly back to the present.

“Yes sir. My apologies. I guess I’m still a bit woozy from the explosion…” And the meeting continues.  
Finally you’re free to go. You can’t take it anymore. You head directly towards Fitz’s bedroom. You figure that would be where he went if he wanted some peace… Once you’re out of earshot of any other agents, but before you get very far, Bobbi stops you.

“Where are you going?” she hisses.

You whisper back, “I’ve gotta go talk to him.”

“Mack, you shouldn’t. We’re not supposed to…”

“I have to.”

“But—”

“Hunter,” you cut her off.

“Mack, that’s not—” she protests.

“Hunter. Now let me go, Barbara.” It’s a low blow but you need to get out of there.

She hesitates. “Fine. Just be careful, okay.”

“I won’t hurt him again.”

“That’s not what I meant, Mack,” she replies. “I mean don’t let him hurt you.”

“I’ll try. He can be pretty mean though.” You try to lighten the mood and laugh but it falls emptily and her frown stays firmly fixed in place. And then she walks off. You sigh and continue down the hall.

The agent at the end nods at you. You grimace and nod back. When did things get so complicated? Barely two weeks ago you were scolding Bobbi for her relationship with Hunter, accusing her of losing sight of the mission. Now look at you, doubting which side you’re on because your… _someone_ hates you. Did you really expect any less? Not really, you suppose. You betrayed his trust, lied to him, and after what Ward did to him too…

Just go in. Say sorry. Try to explain yourself. Leave. That’s it. If he tells you to leave before you can, fine, you will. You just gotta try.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and knock.

* * * * *

A persistent knocking and someone calling your name draws you painfully out of your half doze.

“Fitz? Fitz, I know you’re in there. I just want to talk. Please, Turbo—”

“No!” you yell. You can feel the shock radiating though the door. Stumbling over, you wrench it open and glare with all the wrath you can muster in the state you’re in.

“Turbo, I—”

“No. You don’t get to call me that. You lost the right to call me that. You don’t get to pretend like we’re okay, like this doesn’t change _everything_. Just don’t.”

“Leo, please just—”

“No! Stop trying to fix things. Stop! Get out! I don’t want you near me. Just… just get out.” You slam the door right in his face before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes once more.

You wait to hear footsteps moving away down the hall before sinking down against the door. You can’t forgive him. You can’t. He’s working against you, it’s… How can he explain that away? He said he didn’t want to hurt you, but he did. He… he lied. He…

You just want him back. You want things back how they were. Before. But that can never happen. It can’t. You don’t want to talk to him. You do, but not… not this him. You want to talk to… old him, the head mechanic in the…the garage who helped you figure out what your brain was trying to say. The guy you could trust and… and rely on when everyone around you seemed to disappear.

God, and your… your brain has started losing sense again. You’re losing words… connections. You were almost there. You were so damn close and now he’s… he’s not… You hit your head back against the door in frustration.

But it’s still him isn’t it? Or was everything just an… act, like Ward? Did he just… pretend to care so he could get close to you? But why would he come and try to talk to you now… when you so obviously didn’t want to be near him? Mostly likely still just part of the act, trying to stay on… on your good side, so however things go from now on, he’ll still have a… friend on your team.

Well bugger that. You won’t let him. You won’t. Whatever he says, you can’t let him in again. He’ll… he’ll just hurt you again. You can’t take that risk. You’ve got to… to let him go. Or next time you might just break…

* * * * *

Shit. That… that did not quite go to plan. You sigh and scrub your hand down your face. He doesn’t even want you near him. He won’t listen to anything you say. How can you even try to make it up to him if he won’t listen? The agent down the hall gives you an unreadable look as you walk past, which you ignore. 

Food. You could use some food. Clear your head. In the kitchen, Bobbi must have been supervising Simmons getting something to eat. Something apparently went wrong though because now Simmons looks furious and is yelling at Bobbi.

“How could you just lose her? How could she possibly just disappear like that?”

“I don’t know Jemma. I’m sorry, I don’t know. I already said, her powers just exploded, there was a blue light and a guy and then they were both gone. I don’t know how. I don’t know why.”

“That’s not good enough! Why aren’t you looking for her?”

Bobbi is starting to lose her patience too. “We _are_ looking for her. Look, I’m sorry Jemma. I know she’s your friend, I care about her too…” She reaches out to touch Simmons’ arm, but gets slapped away.

“ _Don’t_ you touch me,” she hisses. “Don’t come near me. You lied to me. To _everyone_. You never cared about her. You just want her locked up so you can study her, or put her down!”

“Oh, like that’s not what you were trying to do either!”

“I’m trying to _help_ her. To _cure_ her. I’d never—”

Alright, that’s enough of that. You clear your throat, since neither of them noticed your arrival.

While Simmons jumps and then glares at you, Bobbi turns sharply, automatically in defence mode. Her features almost instantaneously turn perfectly cold, totally removed from emotion. But you’ve known her a long time. Long enough to recognise the too-perfect façade, the emotions still simmering behind the mask.

“Lover’s quarrel?” Your mouth twitches up at the edge to indicate the joke, but the only reaction is for Bobbi’s expression to become a mirror of Simmons’ stony frown. You change tact and go to the fridge to fulfil your actual purpose for coming here, but looking at all the food there just makes you feel sick. Any small appetite you may have thought you had before is gone. There is no way you could stomach eating at this point in time.

The two women continue to snipe at each other for several minutes while you sit at the bench with your head in your hands. Eventually, Bobbi asks if you can keep an eye of the other agent while she goes and does… something. You missed that part. You remind her that everyone here is still a SHIELD agent and they don’t need supervision. She sighs and leaves.

There is a moment’s peace before, “If there a particular reason you came to the kitchen, Agent Mackenzie? Or was sitting at the bench looking like a lost puppy the whole plan?” The young scientist is eyeing you from across the bench, curious.

“I thought I should eat but it turns out I’m not particularly hungry.”

“Ah, I see…” she nods. “You know… well first, I still hate you. You lied to us and betrayed us and all that. But… well, the way you are currently acting looks suspiciously like guilt. I don’t know you all that well, but you never seemed to be one to be so free with your emotions…”

Before you can stop yourself, your mouth betrays you. “I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it.”

She sits down opposite you, silent for a few minutes. “You hurt all of us, Mack. You and Agent Morse both did. It may take a while for people to wrap their heads around what you did.”

“I… Neither of us wanted it to go down like this. We didn’t want…” You trail off. The memory of Fitz’s damp cheeks and blood shot, furious eyes swims over your mind’s eye. Fury like you remember feeling on the Illiad, watching Tim get shot by people you thought were on your side. God, no. This isn’t… except it is, in a way. No. He isn’t dead. You didn’t kill him. But your head conjures an image of Fitz slumped on the floor next to his colleagues, clutching at the blood oozing from his gut while you watch him down the barrel of a gun. No. No! That’s not— You won’t. You _won’t_.

“Mack? Mack, what’s wrong?” A gentle pressure rests on your shaking hands. You gasp and startle back to the present. Simmons is looking at you and her expression is… concerned? She cares? At all? 

You don’t deserve that. You look away, studying the grains in the tabletop. They start swimming, moving, turning red before your eyes. Blood. Now it’s Fitz grasping at your hand, pleading with you to stop. Just make it stop. You want to move, to staunch the wound you put through his stomach, but you’re frozen in place. All you can manage is a broken whisper of “Fitz.”

“Mack!” She’s shaking your clenched fist now. “Mack stop!”

“How do I fix it Jemma? Tell me how to fix it.”

She studies you for a few moments before saying, “You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

You huff. “Yeah… Bobbi says I care too much… I dunno. Knowing our mission here, I shouldn’t’ve let myself but… Too late now. But I just… I can’t let him think it wasn’t real. That I was just using him like Ward did to all of you.”

“Well, last time anything like this happened, he was in a coma for a week before he even had to deal with it while awake, and then I left. You were the one to pull him out of it… And I’m fairly certain you meant more to him than Ward ever did which means he will be feeling a lot worse…”

You sigh and slump forward to rest against your hands. Way to make you feel more optimistic about anything. She continues, “I assume you’ve already tried to speak to him?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “More me asking if he’d hear me out and him yelling and slamming the door in my face. Not that I blame him so much…”

“Well… And I don’t even know why I’m helping you at this point, but he cares, or cared, about you, and I care about him and I get that you care about him too. Before anything, just let me say, if you hurt him in any way ever again, there are 37 different chemicals I have access to in the lab alone that they won’t be able to trace when your body shows up in the meltwater next spring. Do I make myself clear?” The threat, coming from calm, collected scientist Jemma Simmons, in her usual precise, matter-of-fact tone, freaks you out even more than the thought of what Bobbi would do to you if she knew the extent of your affections for the dorky Scottish guy.

You swallow and say, “Yeah. Yes. Got it.”

“Good. First, don’t try to force it. He’ll cut you off even more. If he doesn’t want to listen, he will make it impossible for you to get close enough to try. Bribing him might work. He likes monkeys…”

“How the hell do I get a monkey past security?”

“Do not get him a real monkey. I sleep next door and will not appreciate creepy monkey noises at 5 am because his pet needs to peepee.

“He also likes cupcakes. And he likes you. Be you, how you’ve always been, if that’s what you’re really like. Maybe um…” She glances away briefly, a vaguely embarrassed twist to her face. “Maybe wear that white singlet you wear when you're working on the cars…” 

You furrow your brow at her until realisation kicks in. Oh. “Right. Um. Thanks. I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind. Uh…”

Over the next hour, you almost break a tablet when it falls into the pot of melting chocolate. Flour ends up on the ceiling, there are batter-y foot prints across the floor and about half a pound of butter is splattered on the inside of the microwave. Agents walking past give you weird looks. Even Gonzalez stops to watch you work for a moment, silent and squinting in confused judgement. When Bobbi comes in to see ‘what the hell is going on in here’, she bursts out laughing, saying you look like an old man. When you finally see your reflection, you scowl and brush furiously at the flour covering your head.

Another 20 minutes later, during which she sat down to watch, laughing and not helping in the slightest, and a run in with blue food colouring that stained your hand half the bench, your masterpiece is complete. Well, when you say masterpiece… A wonky collection of blue chocolate cupcakes in the shape of a monkey sits pride of place on the one clean plate you could find. 

There’s one spare cupcake that wouldn’t fit in the shape, which you and Bobbi now try, to make sure it tastes alright. It’s not too bad. Then you make the mistake of touching the white plate, a blue handprint becoming a new decoration.

You groan. Dammit. Bobbi just sniggers some more and says it’ll be fine. “Fitz’ll probably laugh too.” You hope so.

* * * * *

“Fitz?” a tentative voice comes through your door. “Jemma?” you ask blearily when you open the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I just… came to see how you're doing...”

At least you still have one friend in this place. “Uh, yeah I’m… I’m ok, I guess. How are… how are you?”

She shrugs in response. “It’ll get better. If they can crack that cube, things can go back to normal.”

“Who even cares what’s in it? It’s… it’s… bad enough that Fury and Coulson… kept it… locked it up, and that Agent Morse and… and Mack came here under cover to… Shouldn’t we trust the directors that it needs to be kept secret?”

“Of course I trust them. I just want things to go back to normal…”

“If we want things to be normal, we needed to not… join SHIELD in the first place.” That gets a laugh. You smile too because this is the best, least tense talk you two have had in a long time. “But really, if they… if they can’t… would things go back to normal then?”

“Possibly… We can always be hopeful…” She smiles encouragingly but you can only twitch your lips up briefly.

“I don’t think things can ever be normal again. Not after… not after that.”

Jemma must pick up on what you avoided saying, because she says, “He cares about you a lot, Fitz. He doesn’t—”

“I don’t care what he… thinks, Jemma! I don’t care if he…” you yell. “After everything he… No. I won’t… I won’t get hurt again. Not again.”

“Maybe you could just… give him a chance—” You try to cut her off but she holds up a hand. “— _to explain himself_.”

“No. Not going to happen. I won’t let him… anyone… hurt me again. I can’t do it. I can’t trust him. I can’t risk it.”

“This time will be different…”

“No, it won’t!” you cry. “It won’t. In case you hadn’t noticed, my… my… my… track… record is pretty terrible when it comes to this… I’ve only been… in… love with two people in my entire life.” Bloody hell, this probably isn’t the best time for this to come up, but you’ve started now and can’t stop. “You didn’t… didn’t…” You sigh. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time. “…back, and… and Mack’s…” You stop pacing abruptly, one hand on your hip and the other covering your mouth. 

“Oh Fitz,” Jemma whispers. She pulls you into a tight hug, trapping your arms to you sides. “Just give him a few minutes. That’s all. You never know… Third time lucky?”

You scoff. “Yeah… well… maybe…”

Sensing your reluctance to make any sort of definite decision, Jemma takes a deep breath and changes the subject. “Gonzalez wants to talk to us, down in the lab…”

You nod. “Let’s go then.”

 

You see Mack in the kitchen on your way past. His eyes follow you, you can feel it, but you don’t look back. The lab is just down the hall, so you can never quite escape his gaze. A week ago, you might’ve smiled, waved. He might have come over with you, you could’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, made some joke about what could be inside…

Gonzalez walks in after several minutes with Bobbi close behind. He rambles on a bit, tries to _persuade_ you to help, to open the box. You make a joke about recipes, but no one laughs. Mack would’ve laughed. His huffy, sharp snort of a laugh, before he visibly collected and pasted an overly serious frown on his face. But he’s across the hall in the kitchen doing god knows what with baking ingredients, just watching. If you’d looked over at that point, you might have seen the barely-there twitch at the corner of his lips as he overheard what you said.

Then Gonzalez says after your debriefing, you can leave. You could leave SHIELD. Leave the pain and memories behind. Find Coulson. But you’d have to leave Jemma. Just when you're finally repairing your broken friendship. It’s still tentative even now. It might all fall apart if you leave… And Mack is still here…

“Okay… I’ll start packing my things.” It doesn’t really surprise you that you say it out loud, so abruptly. You don’t really have control over your brain-mouth connections right now. You don’t wait long enough, or look to see what any of the other three’s reactions are. You don’t think Jemma is surprised, but you can’t gauge Bobbi or Gonzalez.

Mack, however, is gaping openly through the window. It seems he could hear the entire conversation. You seal your lips in a thin line and keep walking. No point… no point dwelling on it. You have to go. You have to…

 

He finds you when you're collecting your things on the bus. You don’t jump when he speaks, you aren’t surprised he’s there. You figured he’d come looking for you at some point. Give him a chance, Jemma told you. Fine. Just a few minutes. That’s it…

“I hate to see you leave, Turbo.” He tried it again. You aren’t as irate anymore, you don’t blow up in his face. But you can still make him hurt. You can still throw a little back at him.

“Only my friend _Mack_ calls me that.” You put particular emphasis on his name. Make him hurt. Let him know how betrayed you feel, that he’s a different person to you now.

“I’ll always be your friend, Fitz,” he replies, and you feel a sliver of terrible delight at the hurt in his voice. “Hopefully someday you’ll understand why I had to do what I did…” He’s trying, you suppose. You want to say, why then? Try to explain it, help me understand, Mack. Do that… You want to yell again, you want to unleash the storm brewing in your heart. You can feel the walls breaking. You just want to know why. Why did he do it? Why didn’t he tell you?

But instead you change the subject. Bury the weakness, bury everything. “If you’re here to convince me to open the box, you’re wasting your—”

He cuts you off sharply, angrily. “No, I’m here because I don’t want you to leave, man.” …He doesn’t just want your skills, for the team or anything. He just wants you to stay… But it’s probably an act. It always is… It’s the end of his spiel that next catches your attention. “The damn box is taken care of…”

“What do you mean it’s taken care of?” You spit back.

“Simmons, she uh, she found a way in using…” That’s when you stop paying attention. You go over to the table and look through what she’s doing. You start muttering under your breath. Easier to sort through thoughts. Until… wait _that’s what she’s doing?_ You stop talking abruptly. Mack can’t know what it is. No one…

 

You have to make it a good show. Make them think you hate each other again. At least Jemma’s acting skills aren’t as bad as they used to be. You aren’t really sure how much is false and how much true, she was still a bit weird about some things before. But she’s on your side in the end. You pick up the cube and throw it around, throw around words about fear, about going back to normal. Mack puts his hand in front of you when the other agent draws his gun. Still protecting you, even now… God… When you yell about things never being normal, ask how none of them can see it, you feel his tense beside you, standing so close. Damn right that was directed at him…

“Maybe it’s best that you do…” she whispers quietly. Even with earlier, even with what you’re still assuming is the plan, that comment cuts right to the core. All of the doubt and hurt between you over the past few months. Now you can’t be sure… You can’t be sure of anything. What if she really does mean all that?

You put the cube back none too gently and storm out of the room with all the dignity and rage you can.

* * * * *

That… was awful. You didn’t explain yourself. You got angry, then he got angry again. You didn’t elaborate at all. Just… you want him to stay. Not that you managed to say it. Like he’d believe it anyway.

You’re pacing up and down the garage on the bus. There are a few tools out of place on that bench, which you put back, and then there’s more. Before long, the whole area is tidier than it’s ever been and the cars are even tuned up. All the while, you berate yourself for screwing up, for not convincing Fitz, for not saying… Regret cycles around in your head, building up and up into rage at yourself, until you throw a spanner at the opposite wall, hard enough to dent it.

“Mack?” Bobbi’s voice cuts through your thoughts, sharply pulling you back to reality. You turn to face her. “Quinjet’s nearly ready. Fitz’ll be going in a few hours.”

You stare at her blankly, too full of contrasting emotions to react.

“It’s probably your last chance. At least give him the cupcakes. You did not stain the kitchen blue then leave me to deal with Gonzalez about it for those things to go to waste.”

You huff a tiny weak excuse for a laugh, all you can muster. “Yeah.”

 

For what feels like the thousandth time today, you hover on the opposite side of a door to Fitz for long enough that whichever of Gonzalez’s men is hovering nearby notices the awkward timing. This one squints in confusion, which you ignore, but it does finally prompt you to knock. 

When Fitz answers the door he just looks… tired. Exhausted and like he’s just had it with everything. You know you are a major cause for that look and your heart shrinks inside your ribcage.

“What do you want now?”

You shift from one foot to the other. “Uh… can I come in?” You hold up the plate. “I made you cupcakes…”

“You made… for me?”

You nod.

He eyes them suspiciously but eventually steps back to allow you space to enter the room. 

“What do you want?” he asks.

Well that’s easy. “To make it up to you.”

“With… cupcakes?”

You look down at the plate and shrug. “Figured it’d be a start. Simmons said—”

“Jemma was helping you?!”

“I just asked her for some advice!” you sooth urgently before he gets pissed at his other friend again. “She told me you like cupcakes. That was it, man.” Little white lie. To save another friendship.

He glares. He also doesn’t wait much longer before snatching a messy blue blob off the plate. He eyes it suspiciously for a moment before taking a bite. The icing smears on his upper lip and the barest of smiles twitches at one side.

“Why are you doing this, Mack?”

“Because I care about you, Turbo.”

“If you really cared, you wouldn’t have lied to me. You wouldn’t have betrayed me.”

‘Me…’ “You said ‘me.’”

Fitz’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “W-well, yeah. I-I thought we were… were close.”

“We were. We still are!”

“No. You… you screwed up. It’s not the same. I can’t… trust you anymore. How do I know if… if you’re… that you’re not still lying to me.”

“You don’t have to believe me now, but. Leo. I swear, I’ll make it up to you. I will.”

“But you can’t! I’m leaving!”

“Stay! Please Fitz, we can fix this!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because I fucking _love_ you Mack! And you… and I can’t… so I have to go. Okay? Just let me go!”

“You… you what?” you stutter. What the… “Turbo…” His face has gone slack like it does when he’s in shock, and then he starts tugging on the sleeves of his sweater, stretching them well past the point of no return. “Fitz?”

His gaze flicks to your eyes like a rabbit in headlights, sudden and fearful. “I have… have to… I need… to go. Please.”

You stick your arm out to try to stop him, but the little guy is fast. He slips by before you can stop him. Before you can tell him. Before you can say it back.

* * * * *

The next time you see Mack, you’re hugging Jemma goodbye before boarding the Quinjet. At first, he looks pleading, asking you to stay. But then it just fades to resignation. You nod at him before leaving, but spare the final glance for the rest of the team. The ones who didn’t hurt you, the ones who, at least now, don’t have awkward terrifying love confessions hanging over them.

* * * * *

One look, then he’s gone.

* * * * *

You jump in a cab the moment you land. You open your bag for the first time since leaving, the hundredth since Jemma gave you the little metal box, to check it’s still there. Tucked underneath is a brown paper bag. Oh Jemma.

You smile softly. Bless her. You take a bite of the perfect sandwich and carefully replace the Toolbox. 

Now you run.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr at [ismylifejustfantasy](http://www.ismylifejustfantasy.tumblr.com), ask box is open, come say hi :)
> 
> i always love to hear what yall think so leave kudos or a comment if you like it :)
> 
> as always, thanks to [ishita](http://www.akadefenders.tumblr.com) for help with betaing and words and the gay


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